


Sew My Heart To Your Sleeve

by GingerHoran



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Heartbreak, M/M, New love, Past Love, friends - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-20
Updated: 2013-08-20
Packaged: 2017-12-24 03:47:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/934944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerHoran/pseuds/GingerHoran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Friendship is a strong connection between two people, stronger than love almost because your heart doesn't get broken along the way but how exactly do you differentiate between love and friendship as if the reins are tight enough, and your heart beats just that little bit faster; isn't it all the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sew My Heart To Your Sleeve

Hazel, his eyes are hazel, but then they’re not. You look closer, and you see they’re much richer, and deeper and there’s flecks of gold’s and greens and they’re simply mesmerising, you want to grab an easel and some acrylics and paint the richness that your own eyes have absorbed. Once you’re finished you look back at the eyes, and the emotions changed, and this time they’re darker and there’s less gold, but instead more black as the pupils are blown so wide with anger that only a slither of that dark chocolate remains. Your painting is a beautiful lie.

You have to look closer to truly examine the beauty of something, you see green grass and well its green but looking closer, there tipped with brown from spring and each strand is a little deeper in shade, and a little longer and they tickle your bare ankles as you walk along, they’re crawling with living atoms, and suddenly it’s not just green grass; it’s like an entire universe, with living breathing insects clambering through the shamrock, pine and mantis green shards of grass.

Friendship is a strong connection between two people, stronger than love almost because your heart doesn’t get broken along the way but how exactly do you differentiate between love and friendship as if the reins are tight enough, and your heart beats just that little bit faster; isn’t it all the same.

You think you know someone, you think you’re their friend. You know the colour of their eyes, the length of their hair and the height of their body, but do you really look close enough. I did, and I noticed the scars scattered across the dips of his collarbones, the hollowness of his hazel eyes, his bones are cracked with beating of those who lie, whose eyes are sharp like snakes and each whip of their tail leaves a tiny crack in your ribs beside his heart and it hurts, a burning sensation that happens so often that he’s used to the feeling, almost numb to the sharp pain.

You try to mend his broken heart, you stitch it up with your finest silk thread but it’s not the same, the aesthetics aren’t right and in the end his heart’s going to tear into two if he begins to love again, he’s scared of the lies, and even though your eyes are innocent and shining brightly with flecks of silver he recoils when you approach too soon and he believes your hiding behind a mask, you’re not, but he’s been scarred.

You eventually stop checking up on him, you stop cleaning his wounds with you nimble finger, you stop trying to sing away the cracks in his bones, and trying to get back to the time when his eyes were as rich as gold, and you could almost drown in their abundance. It’s no use, and he’s crying over emeralds, his tears are _greengreengreen_ , and eventually you are as well, you’re green with envy, green with hate against this person who’s torn such a precious heart.

Even though he’s petrified, his bandaged wounds are slowly starting to heal and he bites his lips over your whimpers and although he acts like he doesn’t hear you crying, like he doesn’t taste the saltiness on his tongue or the wet tears dribbling down the ridge of his spine, he does, he hears everything.

Later though, he catches your wrist tightly between his bony fingers, and you hold back the urge to flinch free from his actions, but you don’t, and when he pulls you down to face him, you try not to look into those dark hazel eyes that are slowly revealing themselves, you see slight hints of gold but the black is still overpowering and he’s changing but it’s slow. Holding your chin up and watching as your hot tears are dripping between the dips in his collarbones, watching away the bruises with the salt, he stares deep into your soul through the oceans.

Your eyes are an ocean, swimming with silver fish and even though he’s afraid of drowning he tries, he tries not to flail his arms around as he swims through the depths, as he looks closer he sees that the silver fish are speckled with gold, green and bronze and its breathtaking, and as he moves to touch the fish, expecting it to feel rough, and slithery against his sensitive fingers. The water begins to change colour and shallow, it’s now a shining cerulean colour and he grows more confident as he floats up against the warming waters, and its peaceful, relaxing and exactly what he needs right now. The small silver fish with the piercing eyes are now shreds of glitter, and they cover his body with a shimmering and he grins, the gold, silver and bronze sparkling against his chest.

Your grinning, and your tears are flowing freely now as he huddles against your chest his sobs doing more than words can, but you let him apologise freely and he kisses away the scars on your fingers from cleaning his bloody wounds, from piercing your fingers too many times with a needle as you tried to sow his broken heart back into place.

 

 _Blueblueblue_ is all that’s focused in his mind, and there are still some missing pieces to the puzzle and you may need to check on his heart, and caress it delicately a few times but he’s there, he’s living and breathing and he’s loving you, and you feel it in your heart; it’s delicate like his, but he knows not to crumple that heart in his fist because he’s seen the consequences so he treats you right, he treats you like a friend because friends never get heartbroken. Only lovers do.

Dancing in the shards of gold that flicker around his eyes, you once again paint his eyes with your treasured easel and acrylics, swiftly moving you brush against the canvas breathing in the richness and placing the wealth delicately with your nimble fingers, because it’s precious and its special, and it’s all yours.

The hazel eyes are brighter this time, shining with real love and there’s dotting’s of blue beside the depth of gold, and amongst the warm chocolate the love radiates, you taste it all, the bitterness on your tongue, warm and thick as it runs down your throat soothing the tears that have previously left their scars. It leaves a warm feeling, there’s no shiver anymore, and there’s no green, because it’s been replaced by a shining blue, like the sky full of opportunity and happiness. And you knows there’s a little bit of you inside him, and he’s grateful, because his heart is still frayed but he knows who he loves, and he knows who his friends are. 

 


End file.
